


Turn This Thing Around

by Hmtwgr



Category: Daily Grace, Grace Helbig RPF, Hannah Hart RPF, Hartbig, Holy Trinity (YouTube RPF), ItsGrace - Fandom, My Drunk Kitchen
Genre: Angst, Daily Grace - Freeform, Drama & Romance, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, My Drunk Kitchen - Freeform, OTP Feels, San Francisco, Things Happen When People Are Out of Town, itsgrace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hmtwgr/pseuds/Hmtwgr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what, Hannah has always been there for Grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn This Thing Around

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for the May 15–22, 2013 Hartbig fanfic challenge on Tumblr.

Grace could not believe she let Hannah talk her into going on a nighttime walking tour of Alcatraz. 

To her credit, Hannah was trying to be a Supportive Friend when Grace needed it. And Grace had really needed it. She didn’t even really remember agreeing when Hannah had made the suggestion.

Scott had really laid into her that morning. Grace had figured something was up with him lately. Over the last month he’d been …different. At first she couldn’t tease out exactly what had been amiss, but he’d grown increasingly distant the last couple weeks—that she could say for sure. They’d even had a couple of fights, actual screaming matches that went on and on until one of them stormed off to cool down. They apologized to one other afterward, even had make-up sex after the second bout, but that Thursday morning was not like the other fights.

She and Hannah were in San Francisco for the January 2014 Emerging Media Conference, to which Hannah had been invited to speak. EmMeCon wasn’t the kind of thing either of them usually attended, as it skewed more to the technology side of things, but they wanted Hannah to talk about the social/mobile/promotional aspects of the Hello, Harto! tour, and were willing to put her and a plus-one up in the Redwood City Sofitel. Who were they to turn down a gratis week at a luxury resort?

Scott had called her that morning; the conversation had been short. He said he was fed up, that it was over. When Grace tried to get some answers, he remained locked down, just ran through a short list of things he “just couldn’t take any more.” She was disappointed by how clichéd his list had sounded. She could have written it for him.

He was sick of waiting around for her. The number of NoFilter shows kept growing, and they were always out of town, which meant Grace was increasingly absent. When she was around, she was never available. She spent too much time with all of her “YouTube pals,” Hannah in particular. This trip to San Francisco had been the last straw: she and Hannah away for nearly a week and it wasn’t even for something that really had anything to do with Grace.

So that was it; he was leaving her.

At first Grace had been angry more than anything. He knew what she did for a living when they got together. She’s been making DailyGrace episodes for almost five years now; it paid her rent, fed and clothed her. What the fuck did he expect? He swore he’d understood, but clearly that was not the case. Her “YouTube pals” weren’t just coworkers of a kind, they were also friends, and Hannah was her best friend.

As soon as he had hung up, all of Grace’s emotions erupted at once and she had completely fallen apart. She was all alone in their room—after breakfast, Hannah had gone down to the fitness center or the pool or something—and alternated between sobbing and raging. She couldn’t even get it together to finish editing that day’s how-to installment to post, and she had never missed a deadline before… Especially because of a boy.

After a couple of hours, she worked up the strength to call someone, and without even thinking about it, she called Hannah, of course, wherever she was. Hannah knew something was up before Grace even uttered a word.

“Hey, what’s up? You okay?” she said, after Grace hadn’t responded to “Hey Helbig.”

Grace took a breath to answer and had made this ragged sound.

“Uh oh,” Hannah said quietly. “Oh no. Grace…” and the way she had said “Grace,” in that soft tone of hers, just shattered what little composure Grace had mustered and she began sobbing again.

“Oh fuck. I’ll be right up,” Hannah said, and hadn’t even waited for Grace to respond before ending the call.

When Hannah arrived she found Grace on the floor in yoga pants and an oversized teeshirt, still clutching her phone. Without a word, Hannah got down on the floor next to Grace and wrapped her lean arms around the blond’s midsection. She wore an old flannel shirt over her single-piece bathing suit, and Grace fisted a handful of plaid and wept quietly for a moment. Hannah rocked her gently and waited.

“Scotty dumped me,” Grace finally said, “on the  _phone_.”

“Ah,” Hannah said. “Fuck.” She rubbed Grace’s back with one hand.

Grace hadn’t wanted to burden her friend with all the gory details, but something about the sensation of Hannah’s small, strong hand moving on her back made Grace feel so loved, so safe, that all of a sudden the words just all came tumbling out in no particular order. A small part of Grace hated herself for rambling on and on, but she couldn’t help it. She was processing—not only what had just happened that morning, but all sorts of stuff that had plagued her about her relationship with Scott the last few months.

After a couple of hours of talking, Grace was just about exhausted. “Oh my God,” she said, looking at her phone, “it’s almost four o’clock. The whole fucking day is gone.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Hannah said, pulling away from Grace slightly. Grace shook her head.

“Well, let’s get on that.” Hannah released Grace carefully and stood, moved over to the sink just outside the bathroom.

“I don’t feel like eating anything,” Grace said.

“Well, that’s fortunate, because there’s almost nothing to eat in our room. Here, there’s some instant oatmeal in with the coffee stuff.”

“Huh,” Grace protested weakly.

Hannah used the coffee pot to heat a cup of water and mixed it with the oatmeal in a coffee mug. She returned to Grace’s spot on the floor, stirring the slurry with a swizzle stick.

“How’m I supposed to eat this, with this little straw?”

“I dunno. Hey, wait.” Hannah went back to the sink and grabbed the oatmeal pouch. “Use this as a scoop,” she said, creasing the pouch down the middle and offering it, smiling.

“Great.” Despite how she had sounded, Grace was touched by the gesture. She jabbed at the starchy mass and managed to lift some out of the mug with Hannah’s improvised tool. She blew on the hot cereal to cool it before carefully scraping it off the pouch with her teeth.

Once Grace began to eat, Hannah moved over to her suitcase and pulled on some skinny jeans over her swimsuit. “Let’s get outta here,” she said. “I’m not on the schedule today.”

 _Please don’t leave me,_  was Grace’s first reaction but she held her tongue, and instead replied, “Yeah?”

“C’mon, I’ve got just the thing to distract you, just for a few hours. Get dressed,” Hannah said, gently tossing Grace a pair of well-worn Gap jeans along with a boxy sweater, both from Grace’s suitcase, “and you’ll want your jacket.” She had already put on her own leather coat over the flannel and set about lacing up her oxblood square-toed Doc Martens. ”I’m taking you to Alcatraz. It’ll be fun, and the view is great. I know you’ve never seen it.” At the time, Grace hadn’t even been phased by how peculiar that sounded.

So Grace did as she was told, exchanged her yoga pants for the jeans Hannah had chosen. She didn’t even bother with a bra, just pulled the sweater on over her teeshirt, shoved her bare feet into her brown distressed leather boots, and grabbed her coat.

“Good thing we got this rental car,” Hannah had remarked as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot. It was dark. She rolled down the windows and turned up the heat in the car, left the radio off. Grace said little during the drive. She enjoyed the cool air on her face, felt revitalized a little, and puzzled over her situation. She realized with some surprise that, while she was upset about what happened with Scott, her dismay was more about how it all had gone down instead of being about the end of the relationship itself. Had she merely become accustomed to the routine? Scott had been right, she did spend a lot of time away from him. Living with Mamrie was a lot of fun, and Hannah was a bundle of energy that made Grace feel energized too. Maybe he was right, and she unconsciously preferred their company.

Miraculously, Hannah found parking in the lot at Pier 29. Upon exiting the car, she took Grace’s hand and led her on a brisk walk along Embarcadero Drive toward Alcatraz Cruises at Pier 33. ”I think we can still grab tickets for the last tour of the night,” she said. ”It’s been a while since I’ve been but I know they do a couple evening runs.” Grace gave Hannah’s hand a gentle squeeze.

They turned at a break in the strip of high-end stores and began to approach the ticketing building when Grace saw the water and the covered dock that led to a huge ferry. A small group of people waiting to board were massed at the entrance of the dock.

“Wait, what is this?” she asked.

“That’s the ferry to get us over to the island. Did you think we were gonna  _swim?_ ”

“No, I… I hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

Hannah released Grace’s hand then, and the sudden absence of her friend’s firm grip made the blond feel suddenly adrift. “We’re going on a little cruise, babe. I’ll grab the tickets, you go on over and get in line,” she said, indicating the group of people. “Okay?”

Grace nodded, steeling herself, and they parted ways for a moment. As soon as Hannah returned to Grace’s side with the tickets, the group began to glide forward. “So where do you wanna be?” she asked as they moved to board.

“Huh?”

“On the ferry. Never mind, we’ll stay above deck. Let’s go to the stern, that’s got the best view.”

Once the ferry had backed away from the dock, it turned around and headed toward Alcatraz Island. Hannah had gone to the bar to get them some drinks, promised she would hurry back. Grace leaned on the railing and looked out over the black water. It was a new moon on a cloudy night, so the sky and the sea were ink. This time of year there weren’t as many passengers, and what few there were had stayed below deck, so Grace was alone at the back of the boat.

Hannah was right: the view really was remarkable. The Port of San Francisco was beautifully lit. Off one side of the boat, in the distance, was the Bay Bridge, with the Golden Gate Bridge on the other side. They were lit as well, and the whole vision of things together was spectacular.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the salty air and pulled her short coat tighter around herself. She felt lighter already. Hannah’s upbeat attitude always made Grace feel better. Even when Hannah wasn’t “on,” or amped up for her viewers or at meet-ups with fans, she maintained a positivity Grace found infectious. She herself was usually pretty optimistic, but Hannah had an inner strength, some extra sparkle that would have been annoying in anyone less grounded.

It dawned on Grace then: if she was really honest with herself, about who in her life consistently made her feel good, want to be a better person or took the best care of her when she needed it, it was Hannah. Every time. They had only met a couple of years ago, but had connected instantly and shared a bond as if they had been friends their whole lives.

At that moment, Hannah appeared with four martinis in plastic cups, a single olive in each. Grace turned to face her and said, “I love you.” The words came without conscious thought.

Hannah handed over two of the cups, tapped one of hers against one of Grace’s in a brief toast, and said, “I love you too, babe.”

They each took a drink, though Grace downed the whole thing in one gulp. Hannah raised her eyebrows at this and let out a single “Heh.” To ward off the chill, Grace made short work of her second drink too, then tossed the ice from each cup overboard before she nested the cups together. Without a word, Hannah offered her extra drink to the blond, and Grace took it, placing the cup inside the others. She took a small sip this time, and the two of them turned to lean on the railing and look out at the water.

They nursed their drinks in comfortable silence until the cups were empty. Hannah stepped away for a moment to toss them into a nearby recycling bin. Grace turned and watched Hannah as she returned, striding up to the railing. Her jacket was open, flannel shirt flapping in the light wind, hands in her front pockets. The lights from the fading skyline gave her face a magical glow, and Grace gazed appreciatively at her winsome friend. The evening breeze tousled Hannah’s short hair like a television commercial, and her eyes shone.

Grace said quietly, “I really do love you,” and added, “You’re so beautiful.”

The brunette cocked her head slightly and looked askance at Grace out of the corner of her eye. “You drunk, Helbig?”

“Maybe,” Grace replied, “but it doesn’t change how good you are to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today.” She felt tears well up again and quickly wiped her eyes. Hannah clearly noticed, as she turned toward Grace and held out her arms, offering a hug. As they closed the small gap between them, one of Grace’s hands unintentionally wound up between Hannah’s jacket and her shirt.

They hugged. Whatever chill Grace may have noticed disappeared, and she felt lightheaded. Maybe it was the martinis, or the undulations of the ferry along the water, or exhaustion, she didn’t know. She became aware of how hot Hannah’s back felt against her hand, how the swimsuit served to underscore her awareness of taut muscles beneath its thin fabric. Grace moved one of her hands a fraction, but then found it touching warm, bare skin. She felt her face flush with its own heat.

Hannah shifted slightly. The movement made the blond aware that one of Hannah’s hands lie along the waistband of Grace’s jeans; one finger touched bare skin at Grace’s waist. Hannah moved the other hand to the back of Grace’s head. The contact gave Grace gooseflesh, and she breathed a tiny “Mmm,” into her friend’s hair, squeezing Hannah a bit tighter.

Eventually, they slowly released one another, and paused, their faces inches apart. Grace couldn’t make out Hannah’s expression—the skyline behind Grace made her cast a shadow over her shorter friend’s face—but when she felt Hannah’s warm, sweet breath on her neck, her legs went a bit rubbery.

“Grace,” Hannah exhaled quietly, as if she could tell something was happening, and then Grace found herself bending slightly, moving her lips to Hannah’s, as though her mouth had a will of its own. She succumbed to the impulse, simultaneously surprised and excited by it, and pressed her lips to Hannah’s.

After, Grace found herself clutching her friend more tightly—one hand grabbing leather while the other found its way to the back of Hannah’s neck. Grace pulled Hannah in and kissed her again, more firmly this time. Their lips parted briefly, tongues glancing across each other, but then Hannah pulled away.

“Wait,” she said, swallowing, and tucked her short hair behind one ear.

Grace felt her heart pound in her chest. Blood sang in her ears. ”No,” she replied, her voice husky. She didn’t  _want_  to wait. Not any more.

“ _‘No’_?” Hannah asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No. No more waiting,” came the reply. Grace felt a certainty now.

She knew.

“You sure you want to do this, Helbig?”

Grace nodded slowly. ”Oh, yes. It’s you, Han. It’s  _always_  been you; I see that now.”

Hannah smiled and cupped Grace’s face, felt burning cheeks in her hands. ”Okay baby,” she whispered “but we can’t—the boat—we’re almost—”

Grace smiled and her eyes narrowed. “Let’s see if we can get the captain to turn this thing back around.”

 


End file.
